He trudges into South Side Bank. The cruel wind of the harsh winters throws the door open. He struggles as he attempts to yank it closed. "God... Damned.. Door..." Finally, he clicks it shut. He turns around. In front of him is rusted barrel with a fire going inside of it, a few chairs placed around it. When he looks up, he sees a girl watching him from the balcony, a shotgun raised at him. "I'm not a mutant, no need to shoot, darling." His voice is deep with a slight southern accent.